


(all of your love is) sunlight

by omgprepon



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV), Juliantina - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Set during time jump, Short Drabble, could also be post season finale, everythings nice and soft, it's all soft n good chicas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 03:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgprepon/pseuds/omgprepon
Summary: it catches you off-guard some days, how much you truly feel for this girl, how you can’t imagine your forever being tangled with anyone else's.





	(all of your love is) sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> in honour of juliantina's recent award, I present you this.
> 
> (in all honesty, I meant to write this a few months ago but I never got around to finishing it bc I've never been good at not-angst, and that's probably why this is so short -and also terribly unfinished. But, I tried to the best of my ability to tie it up. it's cute tho, so give it a shot if you want)

Sunlight filters in. Golden and warm between the slants of the blinds—drawn, but not completely shut. It takes a few seconds for you to wake fully, your eyes blinking this slow, lazy thing until they finally adjust to the lighting of the room.

There’s warmth.

In the room, in your heart, in your _bones_. The feeling of a solid _softness_ against your back, an arm slung around your waist, soft breaths hitting the nape of your neck. You shift carefully to take in the sleeping figure next to you and you pause, for a brief second you hold your breath because you’re enamoured with this girl bathed in sunlight, this woman who makes it seem as though the soft glow radiates from her seams instead. It’s instances like this where you catch yourself wondering how you got here, whether it was one specific moment, or several instances that has you utterly in love with a girl who smiles like she holds sunlight inside of her.

You meet her by chance –or fate as Valentina likes to call it—, walk past her while she’s crying on a bench in park and you think _oh, she’s that kind of girl_ (you know, the one society teaches you to mock) and you would normally pass her, never spare her a second glance, but something just draws you to her. To ask if she’s okay, to sit down, to make a lame and ill-timed joke, to laugh and introduce yourself. Thinking back, the moment itself doesn’t strike you as one that you could point at and go _this is it, this is the moment I fell in love_ , but it was the beginning, no? The start of the fall.

And the thing is, you’ve never believed in love, not in that all-consuming, bulldozing kind of love that you read about as a kid, but. _But._ Sometimes Valentina looks at you like you hung the moon for her, and you find yourself thinking that you would. You would let her bulldoze her way right through your drywall heart if it meant that you could wake up every day with this fullness, this _warmth_ inside your chest when she’s the first thing your eyes find. And it catches you off-guard some days, how much you truly feel for this girl, how you can’t imagine your forever being tangled with anyone else’s but Valentina’s, how important she became to you in such a small time-frame. You lift your hand, rest it on her cheek.

If you had to describe Valentina using one word, it would be ‘soft’—she’s all smiles and bright laughter and gentle blue eyes. And _soft_. But there’s something different, in seeing her like this in the quiet of the morning before she wakes, the steady rise and fall of her chest. You tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear at the exact moment that you notice the fluttering of her eyelids and you watch as she comes to, misty blue turning bright. She smiles. You think your heart skips a beat.

Valentina whispers a greeting into the minimal space between you in this soft rasp that reminds you of why you love mornings. She shifts closer, still.

On your non-reply, a soft “what?” falls from her lips. “nothing.” You say, but, _but_ its everything. This moment suspended in the air, every moment between the two of you that exists, that has existed. Its _everything_.

“I love you, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” she kisses you, soft and sweet, “I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell @ me abt this or other sapphic ships over on tumblr @ cloneclubclexa.tumblr.com


End file.
